Drabbles
by leangrypeanut
Summary: Collection of drabbles written for the Klaine Games Scavenger Hunt over on LJ. I might add more over time :  Ratings K-M
1. Just A Little More

AN: These are a series of drabbles I wrote for the Klaine_Games Scavenger Hunt in September. There are seven (I think), and maybe I'll keep adding over time, if the mood strikes. Feedback is lovely! I love criticism as well, because I always aim to improve!

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><p><strong>Just A Little More<strong> (Category : Wet Dream)

There's something wrong with the air, Blaine realizes. Or maybe his eyes. Everything seems watery, distilled. He sort of recognizes his room at home, but everything is out of focus; colors running, familiar edges and shapes blurring. It's soft, comfortable in it's beauty. So pretty.

Blaine smells him first, the complicated tangle of shampoo and hairspray, moisturizers and aftershave. So many products, so much, too much for his exposed senses.

"Kurt" It's benediction, this whisper. Kurt is so close, hovering over Blaine, his bluegrey eyes bright, too bright in the muted shifting waterroom.

"Kurt." It's imploring. The heat from Kurt's body is thick on his skin, he's naked and glowing, the shimmering want burning from inside, cracking through his muscles and cells and he _wants_.

"_Kurt_." It's desperation, a helpless mess of lust and he's coming untangled under the careful weight of Kurt's fingers everywhere, Kurt's lips, whisper soft on him and god he wants more, he needs just a little more, so much more.

"Kurt" It's wracking his body, he wakes with Kurt's name on his lips, still electric and pulsing against his sheets, the ghosts of his best friends fingers still full on his skin.


	2. Goddamn

Goddamn (Category: Glasses)

It's probably a cliché, or trite, or maybe just dumb. But Kurt can't help it, couldn't help being this turned on if he tried. He's almost shocked by his reaction, mostly by his capacity to respond so immediately to something so mundane. But there he is, his beautiful Blaine, slouched over a laptop in his dorm room. His sweatpants are ratty, he can see small, sweet, glimpses of skin through holes in knees. Blaine's white undershirt is far from pristine, it's obviously old and well worn.

Honestly, Kurt could care less. It's not the pants, or the shirt that's almost see through, or the fresh showered and damp riot of curls that make him cross the room like this; he's practically predatory in his movements. It's not the easy way Blaine is sitting and studying that has Kurt pushing the laptop aside and crawling into his lap, breathing in the clean scent of Blaine, something all man and well kept and cherished.

It's the glasses. The fucking glasses Kurt has never seen before. But they're there; nothing special really, but ridiculously sexy somehow. In them, Blaine is older, less a boy and a little more man, intelligent and adorable and so hot; Kurt would love to spend the night thinking of all the ways that those glasses just reduce him, just slay him, but he's too busy licking his way up Blaine's throat. He's far too caught up, licking his way into Blaine's mouth and pulling his hands into those curls and swallowing the half laughed question, because _goddamn_. Those glasses.


	3. Summer Skin

**Summer Skin** (Category: Friction/Frottage)

Summer rolled through Ohio like a blanket. It covered everything, air redolent and thick with moisture and sunlight, seeping into them, into their skins and bones, making joints heavy and filing the spaces between ligaments and muscles and bodies. And god, did Kurt hate it. He spent the summer watching clouds, speculating on wishes for coming storms, hoping for a cool breath of air, anything to calm the excited atoms buzzing heatedly against his skin.

But there were moments, snatched between jobs and familial obligations; between cookouts and parties; tidbits of time when he absolutely loved it. When he could smell summer, coated thick and redolent, painted over Blaine's skin. When the heat was the simplest excuse to begin to shed layers, wriggle out of an older, too tight fitting Kurt-skin; the most comforting reason to feel safe in this new skin, thin stretched, all synapse firing and sparking under Blaine's fingers and tongue.

Best of all were the smallest seconds, the most infinite spaces between their bodies and selves and hearts; minutes and hours rolling up and into one another, friction and wanting and needsomuch, sosomuch. When he would become this thing, gasping and unaware and deliciously vulnerable; when he would come over and under and against this boy, this beautiful boy that was everything, absolutely every thing.


	4. Untitled

This one never made it to the scavenger hunt page because I misunderstood the fill...yeah I am smart. SMRT. I thought I'd share anyway.

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><p><strong>Untitled<strong> (Category: Animal Characteristics)

"Oops," a bit sheepish, Finn stops bouncing. "Did it get on your sweater?"

"Luckily for you," Kurt's death glare is enough to have Finn inching away, just a bit, crowding himself back into the arm of the couch, "Not."

"Here." Blaine hands Kurt a napkin, his other hand holding a bowl of popcorn.

"Thank you," With a small kiss on the cheek, Kurt let s Blaine settle next to him on the couch before leaning around him to glare at Finn again. "Finn, really. Do you have to act like an overgrown puppy all the time?"

"Aw man, come on. I'm not that bad." Finn tries to defend himself, frowning a bit when Blaine snorts. Defensive now, he snaps back, "At least I'm not a cat." He injects the word with all the poisonous undertone he can.

"Are you implying that I am a cat?" Kurt's tone is icy; sensing danger, Blaine stuffs his mouth nervously with popcorn, kind of wishing he wasn't sandwiched between the two.

"Uh, yeah, dude, you are totally a cat. You're one of those cats that like…only likes one person and just, like…hisses at anyone else who tries to pet it." Blaine chokes, trying not to laugh, as Finn continues, "You're the cat with like, a special cat house and a jeweled collar and-" He's cut off as Blaine elbows him, hard. "Ow, dude-"

"Finn, shut up!" Blaine hisses, although he realizes Kurt can hear him. Finn is kind of spot on with his observations, but Blaine is pretty sure that's a thought best kept to himself.

"Oh, it's fine." Kurt's face is aloof, he's calmly picking imaginary lint off of his sleeve. He's frantically trying to come up with some sort of witty retort or scathing response, but damn, Finn's description is pretty accurate. He's saved from having to respond by Blaine.

"As long as I'm the only one that gets to pet you." Blaine's hand is halfway towards Kurt's hair when he realizes what he's said. "No- I mean-"

"Dude," Finn is laughing, helping himself to popcorn, and leaning around to look at Kurt, who is blushing and trying not to laugh as well, "You are awesome. What kind of animal always says the wrong thing?"


	5. Untitled 2

Untitled (Category: Pet Names)

"Sweetie."

"No."

"Honey."

"No."

"Baby."

"No."

"Angel."

"Creepy Blaine. Creepy."

"Ummm…darling?"

"What? No!"

"Sugarplum."

"Oh my god, are you serious? No. I told you Blaine, you won't find one."

Kurt placidly files his nails as Blaine frowns, trying to find a suitable pet name.

"Dear?"

"Ok, you know what? I'm picking a name for you. _Dumbass."_


	6. A Laugh Like That

**A Laugh Like That** (Category: Laughter)

The first thing he noticed when he pulled into the driveway was the red Toyota blocking the garage door. Blaine's red Toyota to be precise. On his driveway at 4pm in the afternoon when Kurt knew full well that the house would be empty. Well, would usually be empty: Carole and he would still be working and Finn had late football practice three days a week.

Unfortunately for his son, Burt had decided to come home early due to a cold that was kicking his ass. He'd hoped to come home and find Kurt working on dinner, or his homework; instead he was going to have to go a round with his stubborn son. Burt had to roll his eyes. Kurt could be high strung, and he really didn't want to have to go a round with him. Hell, he'd been a teenager once, and as such he realized that his sons were going to sneak around and break the rules. And the truth was that he worried, often, about Kurt and Blaine, their safety. If Finn wanted to go parking with one of his girlfriends, the worst that might happen is the embarrassment of getting caught. But this was Ohio, small town Ohio. These sorts of things were just inherently more dangerous for kids like Kurt.

So, yeah he understood, intellectually, that Kurt might be sneaking around with his boyfriend. That didn't mean that he wanted to really _know_ about it, much less catch him at it. Christ this was his kid. He'd changed his diapers. Burt sighed, flipping through his keys for his house key, since he couldn't get in through the garage. He kind of wished Kurt was better at sneaking around, so he wouldn't have to do this.

When he opened the door, he expected to find a mostly silent house; he assumed Kurt would be upstairs in his room with Blaine. Which is why he was so surprised by the sound of Kurt's laughter, loud and rolling. For a moment he just listened. Kurt hadn't laughed like that in…Burt frowned a little. He wasn't quite sure when he last heard his son laughing like that. Following the sound, he went toward the family room, where Kurt was still laughing, arms wrapped around his stomach while Blaine continued talking, hands moving wildly in the air.

Now, normally when his kid had his arms around his stomach, something was up. It was a sort of "hands off" warning Burt had seen often enough. This was different though. Kurt was laughing so hard he was doubled over, taking gasping breaths between bouts. He was already calming down, reaching over to brush his fingers against Blaine's shoulder, still listening to his boyfriends story; something about a brownie and some birds and stiletto heels. Burt wasn't listening, really, instead standing just outside the doorway, eyes only for his son. Kurt was flushed with laughter, face splitting open with a smile. His whole body was relaxed, there was something easy and open about the way he was sitting, the way he casually touched Blaine.

Quietly, Burt backed away, leaving the boys to their story. He wanted, suddenly quite a bit, to stride back in there, take Blaine up and just hug him. Thank him, hell, he was a heartbeat away from buying the kid a new car, anything to repay this; this heart-full and just right feeling of hearing his son laugh like that.


End file.
